


Ballerina

by AceTheWolf



Category: Little Witch Academia
Genre: And you know what good for her, Ballet, Fleur woke up and chose violence, Gen, Mentions of Blood, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, this is a little short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29965425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceTheWolf/pseuds/AceTheWolf
Summary: Fleur was not having a good time. Ballet was something she was good at, but not something she was passionate about. But she'd be damned if someone was going to keep her from performing in one of her last competitions.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 2





	Ballerina

**Author's Note:**

> Wow Ace, two fics in one day?! Yes, because I'm v good at procrastinating on my schoolwork :)
> 
> Anyways, here's something to do with one of my LWA ocs (and something I didn't have to tag "mpreg" for once). I hope to do oneshots with the other five of them in the future. So, look out for that if you liked this!

Fleur was not having a good time.

She glared at herself in the bathroom mirror. A pale girl with a blonde, tight bun and stage makeup in an expensive ballerina outfit stared right back at her. The bags were unfortunately still prominant underneath her eyes up close. She sighed heavily, lowering her head. She wasn't nervous. It definitely wasn't her first compitition, but hopefully it would be her last. And she was antsy to get it over and done with.  
  
Her parents had put her in ballet lessons when she was around 6 or 7. The same time her twin brother Louis started attending political meetings with his father. At first, it was fun. She was good at it very quickly. She was starting to get put into competitions, winning a good portion of them, getting second place in most others and third just once. But then it got boring.  
  
She wasn't quite sure when she began to loose interest. Sometime in her teens or pre-teens. But compliments on her technique or skill now meant nothing to her, same with awards from competitions. She was only pushing herself to try new, more complicated moves so she had something to focus on, but not to enjoy.  
  
She didn't know how to even start to mention the idea to her family. Most importantly her father. But they let her go to Appleton, right? Fleur smirked to herself at that one. After realising that "lawer" was something she'd like to call herself in future rather than "housewife," or "dancer," or something a little more _feminine_ that her father would approve of, she decided to truly test her intelligence and willpower. Just to show off to her father. So, around the same time Louis was taking his, she found a copy of the Appleton entrance exam, printed it, filled it in and sent it to the school. And her father had no idea. Well, not till the school called to announce that both his children had gotten into the school...  
  
Fleur was still baffled that she was allowed to attend in the end. Then again, she was sure she had nagged and begged and argued enough to go. Despite the hard work and the boys flirting with her and the constant dissaproval from her father, she was grateful for it. It was a good, respectable school. And it would get her well on her way to her law degree she was sure of it. Despite some of it's old fasioned ways, as in... dueling at the top of a thin bridge. That was concerning that it was still a thing, to be honest.  
  
But still, she had to keep up ballet, according to her father. But after this last competition, she _would_ be quitting. No "ifs" or "buts." She didn't give a shit what her father had to say about it.  
  
"Now for soloist contestant number 5, Fleur Blackwell," she heard the announcer call out. She huffed to herself. But she walked on out to the stage anyways. Or at least was going to, if a certain brunette hadn't gotten in her way.  
  
Samantha Corstella. Fleur's "rival." Or, at least, Samantha called herself that. Well, to be fair, her at Fleur were almost at the same level of skill now. And, in a perfect world, they should have been fighting each other to get to the top. But Fleur didn't see the point in that. She was at the top most of the time anyways, and she found no pleasure in it. So rivaling with Samantha over it would be pointless.  
  
"What do you want, Corstella. I need to get on stage," Fleur sighed. She wasn't exactly antsy to get on stage, but the thought that someone was actively trying to stop her from going pissed her off. Besides, if she didn't go, her father might think she was just slacking off out of spite. And that would give her more reason to try and keep her in lessons and competitions. And she dreaded that.  
  
Samantha mocked checking her nails, trying to act casual about it. Casually bitchy, Fleur couldn't help but think. "I just thought I'd be so kind and let other girls who actually _want_ to dance get a chance at winning," Samantha sniffed. Fleur rolled her eyes. "Well, I'll be quitting after this, so I'll be out of your hair then. But for now-"  
  
Fleur tried to shove past her, but Maria pushed her back, glaring at her. And if there was anything Fleur hated more than ballet, it was petty, rude girls like Samantha. "What the hell is your problem," Fleur growled, feeling antsy at the announcer repeating her name for, was it the third time now?  
  
She tried getting past Samantha a few more times, but to no avail. And Samantha seemed to be enjoying her rage. But, clearly, she'd underestimated the blonde. Though it wasn't something she was proud of, Fleur had a ferocious temper, especially when pushed. People said she got it from her father.  
  
All Fleur knew was that she blacked out for a hot second. When she came back to reality, her knuckles stung. She looked at her hand. They were splattered red. She heard sobbing and whimpering from beneath her. She looked down. Samantha was crouched over, holding her nose and mouth. Blood droplets splattered to the floor. A pit formed in Fleur's stomach. She was going to get into so much trouble for this.  
  
But she knew they would cancel her act if she waited a second longer. So, though she did feel bad for Samantha, she stepped over her almost uncaringly. There was too much to say, and too little time to say it. All she could do for the moment, was hope the audience wouldn't see the blood on her hand.


End file.
